


Strange Things

by juliusschmidt



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Established Relationship, Fluff, Kid Fic, Larents, M/M, No Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-01
Updated: 2014-11-01
Packaged: 2018-02-23 12:14:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2547110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/juliusschmidt/pseuds/juliusschmidt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You’re serious? You want kids, now?” Niall’s laughing as he asks, like it’s some kind of joke. </p><p>Harry fights the urge to bare his teeth, settling instead for a curt nod. </p><p>“But Louis doesn’t want that?” </p><p>Harry doesn’t answer because Niall obviously already knows what happened. Louis’ not really one to keep his mouth shut. </p><p>“Maybe you need practice. To show him how fun it would be and that you could handle it,” Niall suggests. </p><p> </p><p>  <i>[In which Harry and Louis are magically given the opportunity to practice parenting.]</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Strange Things

**Author's Note:**

> This is an incredibly self-indulgent kid fic in a universe which stumbles somewhat carelessly down the line between crack and magical realism.

“Do you even know that baby?”

Harry glares at Louis and angles the phone so Louis can’t see it. So what if Harry _had_ wanted to put a stranger’s baby as the lockscreen on his phone. Babies are cute.

Anyway, Harry _does_ happen to know this baby. He’s even met him and held him. So.

“It’s Freddie’s. He brought him in before the show in Houston.”

Louis presses the phone down and gives the baby another look and, because the dirty hypocrite loves babies nearly as much as Harry does, his face goes soft and he lets past a small smile.

“He’s something, isn’t he? You hold him?”

Harry nods, “He sicked up on me.”

Louis snorts. “You sound thrilled about baby puke.” He should talk, Harry thinks. He sounds thrilled that Harry sounds thrilled about baby puke.

“I want one,” Harry sighs, running a finger over the pouty lipped smile, the warmth of which is somehow melting his heart and also all his limbs. “ _I want one_ ,” he says again and finds that he really _really_ means it.

Louis slips a hand around Harry’s waist and pulls the phone out of Harry’s hands to look at it more closely. “I know you do, babe. Me too.”

Harry stiffens. They’ve talked about this often, as a dream, something that will happen someday. Someday they will have kids, at least three. Someday they’ll teach those kids to sing and read and play footie. Someday they’ll buy them all the cute clothes and toys and _things_ (many of which Harry’s already picked out and maybe also purchased.)

And that’s always been fine, dreaming about ‘someday,’ but suddenly, for the first time, Harry wonders when ‘someday’ will be. They’ve talked that they don’t want to wait too long; Louis’ even joked that he and Harry were more prepared for kids than Jay and Dan when the twins arrived.

But they’ve never talked about taking kids on tour with them. ‘Someday’ always happens in a universe that does not include being popstars, a universe where they live in a big house out in the country with a couple of dogs (and maybe even a pony, like, if they have a little girl and she wants one. Or, if, say, Harry wanted one.)

But watching Louis gaze at the admittedly very, _very_ cute infant on Harry’s phone, Harry’s struck by the thought, “Why not now?”

Louis turns to meet his gaze, “Why not what now?”

“Why don’t we have a baby _now_?” Harry’s mind is caught on it now, on the thought of waking up each morning with a small, warm infant to lie on his stomach. God, what an _escape_ that would be. Facing interviewers and fan mobs and men in suits wouldn’t be nearly so daunting after a good cuddle and some baby kisses.

“You can’t be serious.” Louis rubs his hands down his thighs and Harry lets out a frustrated noise. He _is_ serious.

He and Louis are going to be such great parents, so devoted, _the dream team_. They could start saving children from orphanages and poverty _today._

“Why not? We’ve always wanted to.” It feels strange to say, but freeing, too. Usually, _Louis’_ the one with the mad idea, trying to convince Harry to go along with it.

“No, Harry, I’ve never wanted to bring a kid on tour with us. For christ’s sake, we’re not even out. It’s not like we could adopt _together._ ”

Harry shrugs. Even though Louis’ right that their shared imaginary world had never included carting their children around the world while they played music, Harry can’t imagine a future that doesn’t include performing and he can’t imagine a future that doesn’t include children. So.

_Why not now?_

“Who knows when we’re going to be able to be out and married and not touring, we could be waiting _decades_ for that,” Harry begins.

Louis groans. “Don’t exaggerate. We’ve got a _plan_.” He folds his arms across his chest as though that settles it. He clearly thinks that the conversation is over, but Harry’s not finished.

“A plan that keeps being pushed back. _Come on_ , Lou. We could do this. We could start to live our dreams _now_.”

Louis drops his arms, fists clenched tight. Harry knows that he isn’t going to win this, not right yet. Still, it stings when Louis says, “Well, Harry, I’m not ready. And you know what, party boy, neither are you.”

A rush of frustrated energy vibrates through Harry and he wishes he had something to throw. (Aside from his phone, that is. He’s made that mistake before.) “Fuck you, Lou. You have no _idea_ whether or not I’m ready. You don’t even know what ‘ready’ fucking means.”

Louis’ eyes have become beady and hard and Harry does not look away from them. They stare at each other for several _very_ long seconds.

“Uh… guys?”

It’s Niall. He’s appeared at the door to the dressing room and Harry knows that he’s come to gather them up. It’s time for the show to start.

When neither Harry nor Louis look at him, he says, “You ready?”

To which Harry can’t help but snap, “Apparently not, not according to _Louis_.” He turns abruptly away from Louis and walks purposefully out the door.

“You can’t _really_ want a child, Harry,” Louis calls after him.

~

He might have been able to cool down and perhaps even admit that Louis has a point. At the very least, he _should_ have been able to drop the issue until they have some time off to really talk it through with their families around Christmas.

And Harry’s usually a very rational person.

But, throughout the concert, looking into the faces of hundreds of ridiculously happy kids, he can’t help but think that, _fuck,_ he’s ready to move on, to take the next step, to have a family.

Harry doesn’t think the crowd is actually any different than it is most nights. There’s usually lots of young children. He knows this; he’s read the reports. But tonight he sees babies _everywhere_. A pregnant woman rocking out in the front row. A little girl with all her front teeth missing standing on her seat and shrieking Niall’s name over and over. A toddler in suspenders already asleep in his dad’s arms just as they first come on stage.

He’s tempted to bring one of them up onto the stage again. Louis wouldn’t _shut up_ about Harry holding on his hip the three year old they’d sung happy birthday to last week. But that kind of pandering would probably be too obvious and backfire. Louis’d probably be _more_ pissed afterward.

While they’re backstage prepping for the encore, Niall corners him. “You’re serious? You want kids, now?” He’s laughing as he asks, like it’s some kind of joke.

Harry wants to bare his teeth, but he settles for a curt nod.

“But Louis doesn’t want that?”

Harry doesn’t answer because Niall obviously already knows what happened. Louis’ not really one to keep his mouth shut.

“Maybe you need practice. Like, to show him how fun it would be and, that you could handle it,” Niall suggests.

Niall’s not wearing a shirt. Harry walks over to the rack, grabs a clean one, and throws it at him. It’s a fair suggestion. But, like, “We have _tons_ of practice. With Lux and Louis’ sisters.”

Niall pulls the shirt over his head. “But, like, not on tour, not when you two were, like, the sole responsible party- the guardians or whatever.”

That’s true. Harry has no idea how they’d create that set of circumstances. There’s no what in hell Jay would let them borrow either set of twins. (Like, he might have already ‘jokingly’ asked quite a few times.)

“How the fuck are we going to do that? Steal some kids from the audience?” Not that Harry hasn’t considered it before. But, like, _no,_ that’s kidnapping.

Niall shrugs. “I don’t know. Anything’s possible.”

Harry shakes his head. He knows Niall’s trying to be helpful, but he’s very much failing.

Also, his tag is sticking out of the back of his shirt and it’s irritating the hell out of Harry. He reaches around to tuck it in and Niall says, “Thanks, Da.”

“You’re not fucking welcome.”

Niall heads back toward the stage cackling.

~

Harry’s still mad when Louis drops into the car next to him on the way back to the hotel. Harry’d dawdled on purpose, showering at the venue, taking his time with his hair and his boots, hoping that Louis would get impatient and head out with one of the other boys. He should have known better. Louis _always_ does this. Harry already knows exactly what’s about to happen.

Louis is going to apologize and, yep, the door’s barely closed behind them and Louis’ saying, “Haz, sorry for shutting you down earlier.”

Harry looks out the window and doesn’t reply because Louis isn’t really _sorry_ , not in the way he should be.

“Harry, this is stupid. You don’t really want a kid right now. I know you don’t. It doesn’t make sense.”

Harry folds his arms across his chest. Turning to Louis, he says, “I don’t know if I want one with _you,_ not if you’re going to be like this.”

Louis rolls his eyes and reaches for Harry, trying to pry his arms apart.

Harry pulls away, “Don’t touch me.”

Louis lets out an angry breath and digs his phone out of his back pocket. He’s probably going bitch to Zayn or maybe his mom over text about what a dumbass Harry’s being.

Well, Harry thinks, turning to his own phone, he’s not _that_ petty. He doesn’t need to complain to anyone about Louis’ dickishness. No, what he does need to do is research adoption processes for single British men. Coincidentally, he’s already bookmarked several agencies and so it’s easy to pull up the pages and lose himself in them for the few minutes left of their drive.

~

Harry heads straight for Niall’s room. He’d like to slip into the sweats tucked in the bottom of his suitcase, but he’d _really_ like to avoid Louis.

In hindsight, Harry should have realized something was off before he even raised his fist to knock. There’d been a faint whine leaking through the crack under the door, but it’s not unusual for Niall to put on a film or even porn, after a particularly stimulating show.

Niall doesn’t answer the door immediately, which isn’t strange either, especially, Harry supposes, if he’s wanking. Harry really hopes he isn’t, but he’s willing to wait it out either way.

After a minute or so, when there’s still no answer, Harry hits the door with more force. This time he’s rewarded with the sound of feet padding across the room. The door handle jiggles a bit. And a bit more.

Harry thinks Niall is struggling an awful lot with the task. Maybe the door is broken. Maybe Niall’s not feeling well. Or maybe he’s taken something and he's at the beginning of a bad trip. The thought sets Harry’s heart racing and he turns the handle from his side and, with a hard shove, it opens.

A tiny blond boy blinks up at him.

“Hello,” says the boy. His pink cheeks puff out as he greets Harry with a huge, hopeful smile. “You can help me?”

“Um,” Harry replies. “Sure.” Because, of _course,_ he’s going to help this obviously very lost child.

The soft whine Harry’d heard has become a full out wail and Harry’s gaze is drawn to a second boy. This one might be a bit bigger, Harry thinks, but it’s hard to tell because he’s lying on the floor, spread eagle and flailing.

Harry squats, sinking so that he’s eye level with the first kid. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Niall,” the boy says. He _does_ look like Niall and Harry wonders if perhaps the kid is an obsessive lookalike. He’s run into that kind of fan before, but, like, Harry thinks, this kid seems _very_ young to be hatching that type of scheme. He looks around for a parent or an older sister or _anyone_ else.

There’s just the other little boy, who seems to have stopped screaming to sit up and watch Harry.

Harry asks, “And what’s your name, little man?”

Slowly, the boy’s face tenses and his big brown eyes turn glassy. Harry _feels_ his new wave of sobs before the little, ragged whimpers even begin.

Meanwhile, Niall has climbed up onto the bed where Harry can see he’s accrued a mountain of snacks from the hotel mini bar. He holds out a candy bar to Harry, “Open?”

Harry sits down beside him, opens it, and hands it back. Niall bites into it greedily.

“Where are your parents? How did you get here?”

Niall grins and meets Harry’s eyes. “Magic.”

He says the word softly, like it’s a secret, and Harry is surprised that he can hear it over the other boy’s tantrum.

Harry raises a skeptical eyebrow, “Magic?”

Niall nods and around a mouthful of chocolate says, “At night, I turn into a leprechaun.”

“You do not,” Harry says and realizes he’s already started to think of this Niall as his Niall, which is very much impossible.

“I do.” He sounds offended that Harry doesn’t believe him. Which is stupid. Harry didn’t know small children could be offended and, _anyway,_ the point is, he’s not a leprechaun because leprechauns aren’t real.

“May I please have some?” The crying boy has quieted again and is walking toward them. He points at Niall’s chocolate.

Niall swallows what’s left of the bar in one huge chomp, coughing a little as it goes down. The other boy starts to tear up again. Quickly, Harry reaches for another candy bar and offers it to him.

He struggles, but, after a minute, opens it by himself. Then he looks up at Harry, beaming. Harry smiles back and pats his head. “Good job, buddy.”

The boy takes one bite of the candy and makes an unhappy face. Harry stiffens, expecting more tears, but the boy simply hands the bar back to Harry and says, “I’m Liam and I know my mom’s phone number."

Harry releases a breath that he didn’t know he was holding. Good, the kid knows his phone number. Maybe they can reach a parent and get him returned.

Wait, _Liam._

“Shit.”

“That’s a swear.” The self-righteousness with which he says it is _very_ familiar and Harry thinks that maybe Niall’s right. Maybe some kind of crazy magic is at work.

“I’m four,” Liam informs him, holding up three fingers. He counts them, “One, two…. threefour.”

“That’s how many I am,” Niall says. “Almost four.” He’s got chocolate on his nose. Harry wants to clean it off, but he doesn’t have anything on him and Niall’s eying Liam’s rejected candy expectantly.

Harry hands it to him. Almost-four-year-olds probably shouldn’t have this much sugar before bed, Harry _knows._ But he’s lost. He has no idea what he’s supposed to do.

His phone buzzes. It’s a text from Louis and Harry’s so caught up in _lost_ _children_ that he doesn’t remember how bitter he is with Louis until he’s opened the message.

It says, _Zayn’s missing_

There’s a bang on the door and Harry prays to god that it’s Louis because he does not need to be caught in a hotel room with two small, strange boys. That’s some Michael Jackson shit he has no intention of repeating.

Harry peaks through the peephole. Louis’ on his tiptoes with his face smashed up to the glass eying Harry right back. Harry laughs despite himself and opens the door, pulling Louis inside and slamming it behind him.

Liam starts to cry again. This time, he chokes out words between his sobs: _mummy_ , and _home_ and then, _woody._

Niall tries to give Liam a hug and Liam passively allows it.

“What the fuck, Harry?” Louis hisses, leaning in close. “You didn’t _actually_ steal yourself children, did you?”

“That’s Niall and Liam, _our_ Niall and Liam. Niall’s a leprechaun and he turned them back into kids or something.”

Louis raises an eyebrow. “You’re gonna need a more convincing story than that, mate.”

“It’s true,” Harry insists because, aside from some very elaborate practical joke using incredibly skilled child actors who happen to look _a lot_ like their bandmates, Harry cannot think of another explanation. Admittedly, Harry has been played before.

“Who told you that story? Niall?”

Harry nods and gestures toward the bed where the blond boy is unsuccessfully trying open a bag of crisps. “That Niall.”

“A toddler tells you he’s magical and you just believe him?”

It does _sound_ stupid. Harry sighs. “You figure out how they got here, then. And what happened to _our_ Liam and Niall.”

“I will,” Louis agrees evenly and walks toward the bed. Liam’s crying becomes louder and Harry really hadn’t thought that possible. If he doesn’t calm down they’re going to attract someone else’s attention. Security or another guest or Zayn.

_Zayn._

“Did you say you lost Zayn, as well?” Louis has stopped a few feet away from the bed because Liam has started scooting backward across it, one backward hitch of his bottom for every step forward Louis takes.

“I didn’t lose him,” Louis snips, his vehemence sending Liam several more schooches backward. “I’m not in charge of him.”

Then, turning back to the bed, Louis pleads, “Come on, boys, tell us what’s happened. Where’ve your parents gone?”

“He’s scared of you,” Niall says, nodding toward Liam. Then he rubs his face, mimicking Louis’ beard.

Harry’s been saying that about his beard for ages. It’s frightening to children. He sighs. “If these aren’t our boys, then we _should_ be able to find them, right?”

He pulls out his phone and texts Niall. Niall’s phone buzzes immediately, rattling against the desk where it’s sat beside Niall’s wallet. This is a _very_ good joke, Harry decides, if that’s what it is.

He tries Zayn, sending _where are u_ and, to his surprise, gets an almost immediate answer. It’s a poop emoji.

 _Come on,_ he sends. This is _not_ the time for jokes. _Seriously,_ he adds.

Zayn sends a puppy, then a kitten, and then a lizard.

“Any luck?” Louis asks.

“He’s only replying in emojies. _Fuck_.”

Hiccupping, Liam says, “That’s a very naughty swear.”

“Swears are magical,” Niall says. He holds out the bags of crisps to Louis, “Open?”

While doing a now grinning Niall’s bidding, Louis mutters, “Shit, it _is_ fucking Liam.”

“I think you are a bad, bad man,” Liam tells him. Lip trembling, he looks at Harry and asks, “I miss _Woody._ Can you help me find my Woody?”

Harry, unlike Louis, is able to keep it together and _not_ laugh. “When did you last have him? In bed with you here?”

“Harry, do you _want_ to get arrested?”

“No, when I went to bed _at home_ ,” Liam says, he’s watching Louis very closely. The phone vibrates in Harry’s hand. It’s Zayn again. He’s moved from animal emojis to rocket ships and aliens.

Suddenly, Harry gets it. “We need to find Zayn. Oh god.”

“What? Why?” Louis has opened his own package of crisps, but, as he lifts one to his mouth, Niall sees it and steals it right out of his hand.

“I think Niall’s magic might have worked on him, too,” Harry explains.

“It’s not _magic_. Magic doesn’t exist.” Louis shakes his head, watching as Niall grabs the whole bag of crisps from his grasp and dumps it onto the bed.

“It does. I’m magic,” Niall says, smacking his lips.

“What if he _is_? What if little Zayn is out there all alone? Louis, _come on_.”

Louis shrugs. “I guess I can pick his lock, but he’s gonna be pissed as hell if he’s sleeping.”

Harry nods. “He’s not sleeping; he’s texting me. _Go_. I’ll stay here and watch these guys.”

Louis rolls his eyes, but he heads toward the door. Harry turns to the boys and says, “Who wants to watch Toy Story?”

They both agree excitedly and Niall starts shouting the theme song.

But then, as he flips fruitlessly through the On Demand, Harry realizes he might have spoken too soon.

~

Four year old Zayn is very cuddly.

He’s clinging to Louis when the two of them enter the room. Harry wasn’t able to find the original Toy Story, but Liam and Niall seemed thrilled at the prospect of Toy Story 2, which _is_ available. Harry’s not sure if showing it to them will mess up the space-time continuum, but if it shuts Liam up, then he can’t much be bothered to care.

Louis looks very worried, shoulders tense, brows tight together. And, unable to stop the thrill of vindication flowing through him, Harry says, “Believe me now, do you?”

“It’s impossible, is what it is,” Louis replies, trying to set Zayn on the bed. Zayn’s little fist clutches tighter into his shirt.

Against the top of Zayn’s head, Louis murmurs, “Come on, love. Harry and I’ve got to sort this out.”

Niall bounces toward them and pokes Zayn in the side. “You want a crisp?”

Zayn considers Niall for a moment and then nods, crawling off Louis’ lap and picking up a crisp from the mess of them on the bed.

Liam begins to cry. Again.

Harry tries to pull him close meaning to comfort him but he wrenches free. Accusingly, he says to Harry, “Why can’t _I_ have a crisp?”

Harry laughs, relieved, and this makes Liam cry harder. “You can, go ahead.”

Liam doesn’t move, though. “I don’t like that kind.”

“I don’t like that kind,” Louis mocks. Harry is about to chide him, but Liam stops crying to kick Louis. Which, Harry doesn’t condone violence, but he _also_ doesn’t condone being mean to small children. Sometimes, what goes around, comes around.

“Hey,” Niall shouts. He’s standing on top of the desk. Harry has no idea how he got there. He’d _just_ been on the bed. Once he realizes he has Harry and Louis’ attention he begins waving his arms about and chanting gibberish.

“What are you doing?” Louis asks.

Harry begins to sweep up the pile of crisps on the bed. He’s not sure how long this strangeness will last, hopefully not forever- if it’s magic, maybe they have to go on some sort of _quest -_ but he does know that children need lots of sleep and that it’s _way_ past kid-bedtime. Shit, it’s past adult bedtime for most people.

He’s not letting these little ones sleep between sheets covered in crumbs. Having tried to do so before himself- thanks, _Louis_ \- he knows it’s uncomfortable.

When he walks across the room to the trash can, he sees that Louis has joined Niall on top of the desk. It’s definitely going to break.

“What are _you_ doing?” Harry asks, coming to stand beside them.

“He’s helping me with the magic,” Niall explains.

“I’m helping him,” Louis agrees. “Obviously, Harry.”

“Yeah, Harry,” Niall says, agreeing with Louis’ agreement. Then he adds, “I can’t break the spell by myself. You need to help, too.”

Harry takes a deep breath. “ _You_ need to get down.”

Niall tilts his head and smirks. Harry reaches for him but he hops down from the table and out of Harry’s grasp.

“You, too,” Harry tells Louis who’s laughing and giving Niall a big thumbs up.

Harry turns and now Niall’s jumping on the bed, next to a perturbed Liam and a delighted Zayn who’s managed to open a bottle of juice. He's sipping it very carefully, not spilling a drop despite the jostling of the mattress beneath him.

“Stop,” Harry says.

Niall cackles. “It’s part of the magic. I _have_ to jump.”

“I’m sure you don’t.” Harry’s not sure about that, but he is sure that if Niall keeps jumping someone is going to get hurt.

And, yeah, not ten seconds later, Liam begins to cry again, clutching his hand close. Niall’s landed on it.

Louis rushes over to the bed. Crawling close to Liam, he asks, softly, “Can I see it?”

Niall looks at Harry a little shame faced. “Sorry,” he says.

“Say it to Liam,” Louis instructs. And with that Liam must decide Louis’ alright because, wet eyed, he offers his hand to Louis.

Louis kisses it and says, “Better?” Louis’ smiles, then, but it’s small, careful, and just for Liam.

Harry’s so in love with him.

“Sorry, Liam,” Niall whispers and then he yawns. Harry feels himself relax a bit. They might be able to get this lot to bed after all.

Liam is still looking at Louis when he says, “Yeah, I feel better.”

Harry’s sure he does. Niall might be a leprechaun, but nothing is more magical than Louis’ kisses.

Harry settles in the bed next to Zayn. He’s finished his juice, but is still holding onto it. Harry takes it from him and throws it in the trash, earning a smile and snuggle.

“When are we going home?” Zayn whispers into Harry’s ear. His voice is so soft and so worried. It makes Harry’s heart ache.

He doesn’t have an answer, though, so he says, “I really like this part in the film.”

Zayn turns back to the screen. “Me too,” he says, even though Harry knows that’s not true. He can’t possibly have seen this film before.

There’s a brief squabble about who gets to sit in his lap, but Louis’ manages to settle Niall and Liam on either side of him and focus their attention to the toys on the television.

Over Zayn and Liam, Harry meets Louis’ eyes. They smile. Yeah, it’s not _ideal_ that their bandmates have turned into preschoolers, but, like, they _are_ cute and Harry and Louis _have_ managed to get them into bed. _The dream team_ , indeed, Harry thinks happily.

~

Harry wakes up to wetness and a whimper. The lights are still on and the film’s still playing, but everyone’s asleep. Everyone but Zayn. Tears are pouring down his cheeks, but he’s trying not to cry aloud.

“Hey,” Harry says. “What’s wrong, pal?”

Zayn buries his face in Harry’s shoulder and Harry reaches underneath the covers to feel for the wet spot at his hip. Zayn’s hand’s fly down, attempting to stop him.

But Harry touches the spot and brings his fingers up to his face to smell. “Oh, Zayn.”

“I’m sorry,” Zayn says. “I thought I could _hold_ it.”

“What’s this?” Louis says, sounding surprisingly, _thankfully_ , very awake.

“Zayn’s had a little accident, is all.” Harry meets Louis’ eyes and sees the barely contained glee beneath Louis’ gaze. Harry smiles back, chewing his lip. If they get Big Zayn back, they’re _definitely_ going to take the piss out of him. The piss. _Heh_.

But, for now, they’ve only got little and tearfully, mortified Zayn waiting between them.

Harry sits up and pulls Zayn onto his lap. He rubs his back and murmurs, “Hey, it’s okay, love. Louis’ going to help you wash up and I’ll bring us some clean clothes. And maybe…”

Harry pauses and reaches down to pat the sheets. There’s a damp spot, but it’s quite small; most of his wee seems to have soaked into his and Harry’s clothes. And Harry doesn’t really have the energy to deal with bedding at the moment.

Louis’ already climbing out of bed and heading toward the bathroom. He gestures for Zayn to follow him and, face clearing, Zayn does.

Back in his and Louis’ hotel room, Harry strips out of all his clothes and pulls on clean boxers and a white shirt. He grabs another white shirt for Zayn and then a third and a pair of sweats for Louis. He swipes their toothbrushes from the bathroom and heads back.

When Harry returns, he finds Zayn sitting on the edge of the bathtub chattering animatedly about Batman while Louis runs a wet rag over his legs. He quiets when he sees Harry in the door and smiles shyly up at him.

“I’ve brought you a shirt,” Harry says. And then he corrects, “I’ve brought you both shirts.” He sets the bundle on the counter and extracts the shirt for Zayn.

As Louis towels him dry, Harry studies the way Louis’ lips are turned just slightly up and the way his fingers dance so _so_ lightly over the cotton cloth. He's going to be _such_ a good dad.

“All clean now,” Louis announces.

Harry opens the shirt and holds it out to slip over Zayn’s head. Zayn frowns. “I can dress myself. I’m not a baby.”

Harry shrugs and hands him the shirt. He slips it on and says, “It smells like you.”

Harry smiles, “It’s mine.”

“Thank you.” Zayn yawns. To Louis, he says, “I want to go to bed.”

Louis picks him up and carries him into the other room. Harry watches from the door of the bathroom as Louis tucks him in and presses a kiss onto his forehead.

Louis returns to the bathroom and shuts the door. He leans against it and yawns. “I’m tired.”

Harry chuckles, putting paste onto his toothbrush. “Yeah.”

Louis is quiet as he changes into his sleep clothes, but, once he’s dressed, he stands beside Harry at the sink and, meeting his eyes in the mirror, says, “That was fun.”

Harry stops brushing. Toothpaste dribbling down his chin, Harry asks, “Are you serious?”

Louis shrugs. “I might like them better this way.”

Harry resumes brushing, but he’s scowling now, too. Louis thinks he’s so damn funny sometimes.

“No, I think you’re right. Having kids on tour might be cool.” Louis begins to brush his own teeth.

Harry spits into the sink. Because Louis sounds so earnest, he says, “No. God, _no_. I have _no idea_ how I’m even going to make it through tomorrow.”

Louis spits and says, “It’d be easier with just one of them and two of us.”

Harry’s frown deepens. “No.”

Louis tilts his head and smiles, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Changing your tune, Styles.”

Harry rinses his mouth and then says, “Let’s just, like, deal with these guys, first.”

Louis leans in to kiss him. When he pulls away, he says, “Okay. But I’m glad I could do this with _you_. I do think we make a good team.”

Harry drops a second quick kiss to Louis’ lips and then keeps their foreheads pressed together. “Yeah, we do.”

“It’ll be great, whatever we decide, whenever we decide,” Louis murmurs. Harry nods, knocking their noses together.

It _will_ be great, Harry thinks, watching Louis check on each of the boys, tucking the covers in tightly around them, before finally laying back himself.

Harry thinks Louis falls asleep immediately, but after a minute or two he whispers, “Goodnight, Harry. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Harry replies, just as soft.

Niall coos in his sleep.

~

This time, Harry wakes up sweating.

Beside him, Liam moans, “Jesus, Niall.” There’s a thud and a “fuck.” Harry’s pretty sure Liam’s fallen to the floor and, also, he’s _swearing_ in what Harry’s pretty sure is his adult voice.

Louis rolls closer to Harry, “Yeah, for fuck’s sake, Niall. How’re you so hot? You’re like a furnace.”

Niall laughs, sleep-rough and, thank _fuck_ , grown-up. “I’m magic,” he says, and Harry believes him.

**Author's Note:**

> [my tumblr](http://juliusschmidt.tumblr.com)


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